


Somebody You Can't

by whisperedwords



Series: so a speedster, a hacker, and a vigilante walk into a bar... [3]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, So much angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-28 08:13:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2725244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whisperedwords/pseuds/whisperedwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I—I couldn’t save them.” The words stick in his throat, and he feels like he’s going to choke on them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>(For every person you save, there’s gonna be somebody you can’t.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somebody You Can't

**Author's Note:**

> Didn't I promise I would write something that didn't end in sex with these three?
> 
> (unbeta'd, none of the characters are mine, self-inspired, etc.)

It all happens so fast.

One moment, he’s running, speeding to the burning building, Cisco in his ear directing him—the next, he’s on his knees amidst the collapsed rubble, his team screaming for him to answer. There’s a woman beneath a large chunk of it, her mouth open in an unheard scream, her eyes blank. Barry knows she’s dead.

He had recognized her right before the floor gave way, recognized her face from her constant visits to Jitters—Iris knew her order by heart, and the woman, who was no older than 60, always thanked her with kind words and relatively hefty tips. He never learned her name—Iris rarely referred to her, and when she did, he was too busy gazing at her to pay attention to it. But now, here he is, kneeling in front of her half-buried corpse, unable to save her. _I should’ve been faster_.

“BARRY!” Cisco hollers, and drags him from the drowning feeling that was starting to wash over him. He lifts a hand to press the mic on his suit—it feels like lead.

“I’m fine.” He replies weakly. A collective sigh comes from the other end. “I—I couldn’t save them.” The words stick in his throat, and he feels like he’s going to choke on them.

“Barry, Firestorm is more powerful than any other metahuman you’ve encountered so far. It’s—” _Not your fault_ , that’s what he knows Cisco will say. He turns the mic off so he doesn’t have to hear those words. Absentmindedly, he thinks he should go back and talk to them—to Caitlin, to ask if she’s okay—but he can’t do it. His body feels heavy, and he can barely pull himself upright. All he wants to do is curl up and hide away from this.

He runs to STAR Labs, changes into his street clothes, and then runs home. He doesn’t talk to anyone.

That is, until he realizes he _needs_ to talk to someone. Someone who knows how to deal with…this.

So of course, he runs to Starling. He’s at Oliver’s door in a heartbeat, and knocks twice—quiet enough that none of the apartments around will hear the late-night interruption. Barry stands there for a few minutes, wondering if he should even _be there_ , if he’s even going to be _wanted_ there, and thinks to leave when the door opens. Oliver is standing there, white undershirt and dark boxers, and it’s almost like he _knows_ why Barry is there before he even opens his mouth.

“I couldn’t save him.” Barry manages, his lungs tightening. “I—I wasn’t—” He breaks off, a sob clawing its way from his throat. “I didn’t know where else to go, I’m sorry—”

“No.” Oliver murmurs, taking both of Barry’s hands in his own. “No, don’t be sorry.” He pulls Barry in gently, closing the door quietly. In another room, there’s rustling—no doubt Felicity, who had started to spend more of her time here recently. Oliver rests a hand against Barry’s cheek, thumbing gently at his windblown face. “Barry.” It’s all he says, his voice still soft, and Barry leans into the touch, biting his lip so he doesn’t lose it in front of him.

But then Felicity appears from the hallway, one of his Central City shirts hanging on her slender frame. “Barry?” She’s got the same soft, worried tone—figures that the two people he loves most have rubbed off on each other—and the tears fight their way down his cheeks. She pads to where the two of them are standing, and then presses herself up against Barry’s back, her arms snug around his torso. He feels her lips through his thin shirt, kissing him gently. Feeling this, Barry’s walls collapse. He lets out another shuddering sob, closing his eyes but seeing that face again, the open mouth, the dead eyes—his breath comes shakily. It’s like he’s having an asthma attack again, like he’s twelve and seeing that yellow lightning all over again.

He doesn’t realize that Oliver and Felicity are peeling his layers away until Felicity rests her hand on the small of his back—now bare. Her lips are drawn, and her eyes are watery.

“Come back to bed.” She murmurs. Oliver nods in agreement, comes up behind him and presses a soft, chaste kiss to the nape of his neck. Barry nods numbly, shuffling down the hallway with his boyfriend and girlfriend to the big bed in Oliver’s room. For a moment, Felicity and Oliver remove their hands from him and settle themselves onto the bed. But in an instant they’ve clasped one of Barry’s hand in each of their own, and with a gentle tug, he falls onto the bed in between them. (The last time he was here, they were all pressed up against each other, but for a much different reason. This isn’t going to be like that.) Wordlessly, Oliver pulls Barry flush to him, nestling his face into the crook of his boyfriend’s neck. Felicity lies opposite Barry, her fingers twined with his. She lifts one hand to her lips and kisses his fingers, her lips warm and so different from the chill he feels creeping through his body.

“It’s okay, Barry.” Oliver murmurs in his ear, voice soothing and warm against his skin. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re going to be okay.” Felicity is mouthing _I love you_ s against his palms, now, and for a moment, the cold subsides.

 

He thinks he might be.


End file.
